Old World Blues Part 1
by ougabouga
Summary: The head of a newly Independant New Vegas, the Courier attempts to atone for his sins and improve the lives of everyone in the Mojave.
1. Part 1

**Old World Blues**

Chapter 1

The Courier stood in the Lucky 38 Cocktail Lounge overlooking the New Vegas Strip. He watched drunken revellers encourage strippers to dance for them. A few had NCR uniforms on, but they were only a minority where they'd been a majority before. He sipped the Whiskey and pondered all that had transpired in the past few weeks. So much that it seemed he'd known no life before it. He only had vague recollections of his life before being shot by Benny. He remembered being a Courier, carrying packages through hostile territory. He remembered sniping Radscorpions, evading Deathclaws, killing a few troublesome Raiders. He had no recollections of the various towns and villages he'd grown up. He'd always been on the road, always travelling.

He awoke from the grave with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. Like a divine wind he swept through the Mojave on the path of the man who shot him in the head. He tracked him like Hawk stalking its prey. All was going more or less smoothly until he hit Nipton. He knew of Caesar's legion and its methods but had never seen them up close. They were a brutal reminder of the insidious barbarism of the past, what a pre-war writer had termed "the nightmare of history."

As he continued on his road, he saw further things that implanted ideas beyond vengeance. He met reminders of the futility of holding onto the past, and more, what harm hanging onto that past can do. A past in which this scorched, barren wasteland was its legacy. There was the former NCR sniper Craig Boone, racked with grief over the loss of his wife and unborn child, and his part in the Massacre of Bitter Springs. There was Rose of Sharon Cassidy, her caravanning business ruthlessly stomped out by the bigger competition, unwilling to do anything other than indulge in drink, debauchery and self-pity.

Once in the Strip, after he'd killed Benny by impaling him with Pool Cue's and retrieved the Platinum Chip, he met the personification of this: Mr. House. An autocratic recluse sealed in a hyperbaric chamber that had kept him alive in the years after the War. He'd admired him, for his iron will, his intellect, his farsightedness, yet he was just as a much a fool as "Caesar" or anyone else. He wanted to relive the past, or at least, an idealized version of the past, remembering only its small glories and benefits, while ignoring its massive failures. The NCR was as bad as any, using old symbols without knowing their true meaning. Using old systems because new ones were too difficult to implement. The past was only useful if it served as a lesson for avoiding mistakes, not for repeating them. There was a need to break from the past, to forge a new way. He saw, or Yes Man made him see, the way to forge that way.

With the same determination and cunning that he pursued Benny, he sent out across the Mojave to consolidate this future. He befriended the isolationist Boomers, hoping he could wean them to interact with outside world on a far more productive level. He met the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel, and the exiled Veronica Santangelo. He wept for them, so trapped in the past that they forgot all about the future. He and Veronica wanted the Brotherhood to cast off its isolationism, to spread its knowledge and expertise throughout the Mojave for the benefit of all. Yet there were unable and unwilling to do this, abandoning all reason in favour of following their Codex, a document that had long since lost its relevance.

The Brotherhood massacred a Followers of the Apocalypse outpost, when Veronica was on the verge on joining them. This was meant to teach a lesson, but from it Veronica learnt a different lesson than what had been intended. She fully abandoned the Brotherhood and joined the Followers outright. Seeing the piles of goo that had once been innocent Followers members rekindled the flame of vengeance within the Courier. After consoling her at the Old Mormon Fort, he snuck into their outpost and activated their self destruct device. A few escaped. Now homeless and rudderless they wandered, the bunker a smoking pile of ruin. He never visited Old Mormon Fort again, he feared what Veronica would say, do to him. Although it had been necessary, he'd killed, no... murdered her family.

He met Arcade Gannon, a man obviously hiding from his past, trying to be his father's man, instead of trying to be his own. They travelled together to shrines of pre war technology like the RepConn Test site and Helios One. Eventually Arcade opened up, about once belonging to the Enclave. He'd heard legends about the sinister Enclave, how they were the ones who set up the Vaults, who created the FEV Virus, who blackened the sky with their Vertibirds. It was absurd to him to think than an intelligent, witty man like this could emerge from such a sinister organization. Through Arcade he met other ex-Enclave members, they were hardly the monsters of legends. But they all held onto the past in the same, wrong way.

He travelled beyond the Mojave, to Zion National Park, the Sierra Madre, the Big Mountain and the Divide. He saw the errors of the past, but he also saw triumphs of the past. Autodoc machines, matter replicators, seed cloning technology. It was time for the Mojave to move beyond survival, to thrive again, while not repeating the mistakes of the past.

He'd fought at the second Battle of Hoover Dam, alongside his Securitrons, Boone, Cass, Lilly, Ed-E and Rex. They slaughtered all the legion threw in their way, as well as a few NCR troopers who got in his way. Personally he slew Legate Lanius as he'd slain Caesar, by reducing him to a pile of ashes. He'd taken his helmet as a trophy, the helmet now stood in his presidential suite, along with his other trophies and treasures.

The Courier remembered with glee the shocked locked on General Oliver's face as he read the terms of their withdrawal. He'd objected and threatened, the Courier had been mighty tempted to have the General thrown off the dam, but he resisted. Vegas still needed the NCR, its citizens to visit and spend their caps. For now, at least. That had been a couple of days ago. Much had changed, and there was much more to do.

He swigged the last of his Whiskey. Mildly drunk, He was in the mood for a visit to the Thorn. Red Lucy always cleared his mind.

"Yes Man, I'm just going to the Thorn."

"Alright boss, want me to send a Securitron with you?"

"No thanks, wouldn't want you perving in on me."

"Okay boss. Just don't go fighting Deathclaws again."

As he entered Freeside his eyes landed upon the Old Mormon Fort. He hadn't seen Veronica since he'd wiped out the Brotherhood a few weeks ago. His booze riddled mind thought it would be a good idea to visit her.

He opened the doors to the Fort. He was getting used to the looks he got now. A few months ago he was just another anonymous courier, now he was The Courier. Ruler of New Vegas. Arbiter of its new destiny.

He knew what people said about him behind his back. Already, legends were being spoken of him. The Courier who'd cheated death. The Courier who'd slain the Deathclaws infested Quarry Junction with his bare hands. The Courier who survived the Divide. The Courier who'd spared Salt-Upon-Wounds. The Courier who'd saved the Bright Followers, rather than slaughter them. It was difficult not to feel prideful, yet his renown made him uneasy.

Arcade was near the entrance. He'd ordered Arcade to lead a team to the Big Mountain and to research the technologies there.

After they greeted and wished another luck, Arcade told him Veronica was. "She's in bad shape. Even though it's been a few weeks. She probably won't be too happy to see you."

She was the only one in the tent. She sat on the bed, staring stoically at the wall. A torn and dirty dress on the floor.

"Veronica?"

Her body tensed. Slowly she turned to face him. Her eyes red.

She rushed at him. "You... murdering...bastard!"

Her arms unleashed a torrent of firm, wild punches. Some missing, most hitting him. He let her have a few shots before he grabbed her arms to stop her. She continued to struggle.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

"I'm sorry." He said softly.

"You're sorry?" She screamed at him, her voice seething with grief and rage. "You kill hundreds of innocent people, my family, and you're sorry? Fuck you! They befriended you! They trusted you! The only outsider in years! And you be-fucking-trayed them! You didn't have to kill them... They were innocent! But you murdered them just so you could be the Vegas big shot!"

Weeping consumed her, but she continued to push away from him. He let her go.

"Don't ever talk to me again!" She ran away.

The Courier sighed and walked quietly out of the Fort. Everyone was staring at him. He ignored their regards though he could feel their eyes boring into him like sharp daggers. His sunglasses concealed his own silent tears.

She was right. He had murdered them. They weren't mindless ghouls or crazed fiends. He told himself it was necessary, that they were dangerous, they were no different than the NCR or the Legion. But seeds of doubt were sowed into his mind. Maybe he didn't try enough. After all, he'd coaxed the Boomers, why not the Brotherhood?

He wasn't in the mood for Red Lucy anymore.

Chapter 2

A few more whiskeys later, he lay on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. He thought of Veronica. He thought of the dress she'd torn, the dress he'd given to her. She was so happy and radiant wearing that dress for the first time, completely opposite of how she looked now.

He'd killed her family. Silently he wept, reminded of her fury, reminded that he'd harmed her. They'd fought together, saved another's lives on dozens of occasions, joked together and opened up to another. One night, he even made a failed attempt at a drunken kiss. She laughed him off without humiliating him. What kind of girl could manage to do that? Anyway, Cass was more receptive to that kind of affection.

Like a lot of people, Veronica was holding onto the past. But there was one part of her past in particular she held onto, her love for another Brotherhood Paladin, Christine Royce. He'd met her in the hell of the Sierra Madre Casino, damaged physically and mentally. Together, they'd conquered the death trap of the Madre, and defeated Father Elijah. He'd promised her...

"That's it!"

He set off that morning¸ still hung-over with ED-E and a Securitron in tow. He equipped himself with a Holorifle, Maria and a few grenades and his combat knife. He wore his Courier duster and 1st Recon Beret. He was The Courier, there was no need to hide behind Power Armour.

The journey to the Sierra Madre took a few days. The journey was largely quiet and undisturbed, save for an odd Radscorpion or Gecko. The Courier was glad for the quiet and the solitude. He'd always enjoyed solitude, one of the reasons why he signed up to be a courier in the first place.

The towering peaks of the Sierra Madre Casino appeared over a crimson horizon. The more they neared the Madre, the more the sun disappeared. He hated this place. Of all the places he'd been, this was the worse. Here there was no sun, only traps laid by the old world.

He came to the Villa gate, dread settling over his heart. He turned to his robot companions. "The enemies here are known as Ghost People. To be killed they must be dismembered or incinerated. Our destination is the casino. Let's go."

They kept a brisk pace, heading straight for the casino. Dozens of Ghost People hindered them on their way. The Courier was no passenger, firing his holorifle at the swarming Ghost People. He swore, reloading another clip, walking up the path to the Casino. Maybe they should've gone for a stealthier approach. The Ghost People just kept coming. He could see hundreds of them, a swarm forming up behind_. No wonder I hate this fucking place_, he thought to himself.

He looked ahead; the door to the casino was dozens of feet away. The Ghost People were relentlessly pursuing them.

"Once we get inside, follow me, we're going to the main elevator!" He yelled to his robotic companions, hoping they'd hear them. _And then what?_ He thought to himself. _How are we going to get out of here?_

He threw open the doors. ED-E and the Securitron we're right behind him, firing their weapons. The Courier slammed the door shut, knowing it wouldn't stay closed for long. He bolted for the elevator. Just as he reached them the front doors burst open. His robot companions blasted away, slaughtering the ghost people as they tried to enter. The doors created a narrow choke point, making it far easier to kill the abominations.

Now the robots were truly able to shine, their weapons laying waste to the Ghost People. Indiscriminately they slaughtered any being that dared approach the entrance. The Courier watched them as he called the elevator.

"Hold this position!" He ordered. He was breathing heavily. Good thing his was heart was cybernetic.

It was a relief to exit the elevator. Slowly he regained his breath.

"Christine?" He called out.

Silence.

He called out her name again. Where was she?

He heard footsteps coming from his left.

He saw her turning the corner, rifle in hand.

"Oh my God! It's you!" She dropped the rifle and ran to him. He wasn't prepared for the tender desperation of her welcome. She hugged him tightly, so tightly he felt was close to suffocating.

He didn't need to hear her to understand her. Even with a voice restored, her actions spoke louder than her words ever could. They held another, neither wanting to let go. The Courier finally allowed a moment of vulnerability, a moment of humanity, wanted this moment to last forever.

Chapter 3

They faced another recovering from their emotional reunion.

"Why?" Christine asked, starting to grow her hair, although it was still a buzzcut at this point.

"I promised." The Courier answered.

"That can't be it."

"No, it's about a third of it."

"What's the other two thirds?"

The Courier tensed. "We should talk on the road."

"I want to know, now. Before we leave."

"I'll tell you on the road." His voice was soft as silk, but his tone was as hard as the Hoover Dam.

Christine softly nodded, recognizing she wouldn't get her way here. He'd saved her life, her sanity, she couldn't begrudge him.

"So, is there a secret exit?" The Courier asked.

"No, but we don't need one." Christine answered.

"What?" The Courier didn't believe it.

"Since your last visit, the Ghost People have come to see me as one of their own. They won't attack us, so long as you're with me."

Had it come from anyone else, he wouldn't have believed it. She was gathering her few belongings in a leather knapsack.

"Ready?" He asked her.

She nodded. He could see affection and gratitude in her eyes. How long would that last?

They piled into the elevator. The Doors opened. There were corpses of Ghost People piled all around the entrance but the Bots were silent.

"Enemy presence neutralized."

ED-E beeped cheerfully.

"Well, you do know how to announce your presence."

They exited by a side door. Ghost people were near. They seemed ready to attack until they saw Christine. Then they silently folded away into the darkness. Their silent benevolence was as eerie as their silent malevolence.

"You weren't kidding."

They stopped near the entrance. With the Securitron's help, they removed a Vending Machine from the wall. Using leather straps it was attached to the Securitron's back. It wasn't until the Towers of the Madre were out of sight and the Cloud a distant memory that they spoke again. They'd travelled after nightfall, determined to leave the Madre behind.

The Courier started a fire and pulled two bedrolls from the Securitron's storage cabinet. He put both bots into passive mode, allowing them to sleep with some form of privacy, but still remain vigilant to warn of a threat.

Christine frowned at the two bedrolls, unfurled on the ground.

"I don't think we need two bedrolls." Her brilliant eyes reflected the flames and firelight almost seemed to radiate from them.

_Oh, no_. The Courier thought, as Christine began removing her clothes in front of him. His mind was saying one thing, his heart, his body, another.

"No." He said weakly, staring at her full breasts; her supple body seemed to glow in the light of the stars and fire.

She caressed his face. "I need this... you need this." She kissed him and they surrendered themselves to another. By fire and star light they made love. The Courier released himself, allowing himself to become vulnerable and human, for a few more wonderful, if all too brief hours.

Chapter 4

The Courier awoke as the sun began peeking over the mountain tops. For a few moments he struggled to remember where he was, and who this naked woman in his bedroll was. Then he remembered.

"Oh fuck!" He cursed aloud, scrambling out of the bedroll.

It had felt so... wonderful. He was no stranger to sex but to love... He'd realized he'd never made love before until the night before. But he hadn't retrieved Christine for himself: he'd done it for Veronica. He'd betrayed her again.

"What is it?" Christine asked, annoyed and alarmed.

"It's this." The Courier answered, putting his clothes on.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He sighed, struggling to find the right words.

"Shit." Christine cursed. "Don't tell me you're one of these uptight little prudes ..."

"No, it's not that." The Courier said firmly. He sighed.

"Just listen to me, for now, okay?" She nodded.

"I came back for you, not just because I promised you, but because of a couple other reasons. Before I came here, I met an old friend of yours. Veronica Santangelo." Her face changed when he mentioned the name. She looked away from him, remembering old memories. "She told me of you, well, not you specifically, but she told me of being in love. Of the happiness it brought her... I thought I'd try to bring you back to her, to make it up to her, to atone for my sin."

"What are you talking about?"

He looked away from her, afraid to see her reaction. "The Mojave Brotherhood Outpust. They're dead. I killed them." He was expecting an outburst of rage.

She looked away from him, conflicting emotions clashing like a great storm. Where to start?

"Why?"

He paused before answering her. "I want New Vegas to be independent. More than that, I want to build a new world where we learn from the mistakes of the past, instead of repeating them. I helped the Brotherhood. I befriended them. We wanted to bring them out of isolation, to share their knowledge and expertise, to transform the wasteland into a paradise. But they wouldn't change their ways. Elder McNamara was inches from being overthrown, yet those who would replace them would be even more insular and violent than he. I knew once Vegas became Independent they would become more aggressive, they'd become a threat to what I was going to accomplish... If it's any comfort, they didn't suffer."

"You remind me of another Courier I knew. What about Veronica?" Her voice was flat.

"Veronica knows that I killed them. She hates me, not that she's wrong to. But I think if I brought you two together again, I could somehow make up for what I'd done."

"And what about me?" The Courier frowned and for once found the strength to look at her. Her look was fiery and firm but not hostile.

"Do my feelings not matter in this?"

"Of course they do." He answered defensively.

She shook her head. "When I saw you yesterday, I thought you came for me. No one's ever done anything close to what you did for me, when Elijah trapped us. You're the only person I've trusted since... When you squeezed my hand in that power station... I can't describe how that felt, what that meant to me. I left the Madre to be with you. Not with Veronica. If that's what I wanted, I would've left ages ago. Yes, Veronica and I loved another, and yeah, I still think about her but... that was years ago. She's changed, I've changed. I don't think we could work out now... I thought you were all about learning from the past, letting go of the past. That's what you did in the Madre, when you left that gold behind, when you solved the Nightkin's schizophrenia... When you sealed Elijah in that vault, that's what you taught me. Last night was... wonderful... In a way I can't explain. I love *you* ... and I know you love me. I saw it, felt it last night, I see it now, too. I don't know how a man who can reap such death can be so full of love and kindness, but you are. There are legends about you, you know? When you left I became a warden of the Madre, warning off people from that place. People talked about you, the Courier, the new head of New Vegas. The one who came back from the dead. I heard about The Battle of the Divide, between you and Ulysses."

She paused before continuing again. "It's right that you feel terrible for killing those people. But that you feel remorse shows me you're not a monster. I know you have to build a wall around yourself, everyone in a position of power does, but there's times you have to let your guard down, otherwise it'll drive you mad, like Elijah. Its okay for you to let your guard down around me, you're safe with me. I want to be there for you, as you were for me."

The Courier bitterly fought against the tears that flowed from his eyes.

"Let's get going." His voice trembled, trying to restrain the unstable emotion surging within him.

Chapter 5

Freeside was looking nicer, but it wasn't perfect. The debris of old cars and buildings had been hauled away to be recycled, to aid in Vegas 'reconstruction. The homeless and penniless were no longer so, now they were the employees of New Vegas Reconstruction Inc, incorporated by the Courier days after the Second Battle of Hoover Dam. All of the junkies that had littered the street were now being treated either in the Old Fort or the New Vegas Medical Clinic. They were being swamped by demand and they were struggling with supplies. Soon new medical buildings would be erected that could accommodate even more patients, packed to the gills with AutoDocs. He wanted the streets to be littered with Madre Vending machines that dispensed food, clothes. But that was the future, he hoped. The present was a struggle.

"You've done wonders with this place." Christine remarked.

The Courier said nothing. They hadn't spoken much to another since that morning. She *had* to get back with Veronica, it didn't matter how he felt. That was it. No discussion. Christine didn't shy from telling him that his feelings were the exact reason why he wanted to do this.

He walked her to the Fort.

"She's here." He said flatly and walked away towards the Lucky 38, never looking back.

"Such ingratitude, Mr. President, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be alive." The Courier chided soon to be ex-President Kimball, speaking via video link.

The President chaffed at this. The Courier never tired of bringing it up and loved seeing him squirm.

"As I said earlier, Mr. President, this is not a negotiation; this is a statement plain and simple. The rate we're charging you for electricity is increasing effective the 30th of this month. The increase is only a minor percentile. Perhaps I was being too generous towards you; perhaps I should increase it further or cut you off altogether."

"No, that won't be necessary."

"Good. I'm glad we're able to have such an amiable chat. I look forward to speaking with your successor in the next few weeks. Goodbye."

Yes Man's face appeared on his video monitor.

"Well, that went pretty swell, don't ya think?"

"Yep." The Courrier pulled a bottle of Whiskey out and began sipping from it.

"I'm just checking in to give you a status report. The Boomers have bombed the Sierra Madre. There's nothing left of it. It shouldn't trouble anyone, anymore."

"Good." It was a relief for that place to be gone. "Anything else?"

"Quarry Junction is operational, but it will take 70.5 days for it to operate at 100% efficiency. Dr. Klein reports production of the AutoDocs and Vending Machines is proceeding behind schedule; they're still having problems with the Y-17 Harnesses assaulting the factories. While they've cleared the debris, a lot of the research facilities are destroyed beyond recognition. Arcade Gannon is working with Dr. Mobius to decode some of his solutions but haven't found anything yet. Some lawmakers in the NCR are calling for a boycott of Independent New Vegas. Figures suggest the pro-boycott politicians are very popular, with the election weeks away. Some trouble in Freeside. A fight broke out with some people trying to get in the Old Fort for treatment. "

He swore. "How bad is it?"

"Only 3 deaths, the Securitrons were able to discourage people from being even more violent. It could be worse."

It could've been worse. That was his mantra of late. He wanted things to be better. It wasn't enough that things could've been worse. He threw the whiskey bottle on the ground, smashing it into a thousand pieces.

"You know, the Maintenance Bots are getting kinda testy about having to clean up messes like that. You know, I got the right thing to cheer ya up, buckaroo. There's an old pre-war comedy troupe called Kids in the Hall that we've recovered some holotapes of. They're so funny they make me wanna crush somebody's head. You should watch them; it'll do wonders for your mood."

"Shut up, Yes Man."

"Okay, boss. I'm just trying to help."

"You appear to have visitors." The videoscreen switched from Yes Man's face to a Secuitron's view. Since the takeover, he'd allowed no one into the Lucky 38. It was necessary to maintain his aura, as well as increase his safety. He recognized them and his heart started beating.

"Let them in. Let them take the elevator here."

He waited for them at the elevator. The doors whirred to life and they opened. Christine and Veronica stood before him.

"Come in." He said.

"We need to have a talk." Christine said.

He led them to a sofa, walking past the broken whiskey bottle.

Veronica seemed to be trembling slightly as she sat down next to Christine, he sat facing them. She started talking, her voice raw with emotion. "I was all set to leave for the NCR three days ago when Christine showed up. It was like a dream or an old-holo movie. But, after the first little while... once we started talking... and I got over the voice thing...she told me everything... and we both realized that what we had before was nice but it can't work out now. Too much has happened, too much time. We've changed... I hated you for what you did. But rescuing Christine for me was... incredibly sweet and noble. But it's also the opposite of what you're trying to accomplish, what you've taught me and everyone who ever worked with you: To let go of the past. Christine and I had something lovely, but that was a long time ago and it's just not there anymore. She loves you now more than she ever loved me. For everyone's sake, let her back into your life. I don't want you to make a mess of things."

He rushed to Christine, tears in his eyes as they embraced another. Silently he apologized and silently she forgave.

Veronica stood and quietly walked away towards the elevator. As the elevator doors closed she caught a final glimpse of the happy couple. She saw happy smiles and joyful tears.

She travelled with the Caravan, away from New Vegas, away from the past, towards her future. She wasn't sure where she'd go yet. The Boneyard, the Hub, Vault City, or some other place she'd find on the way. The Lucky 38 faded from view. As it did, Veronica looked up to the sky, knowing she could freely look up without seeing that towering monolith. She began giggling and laughing uncontrollably, ecstatically, hysterically. Everyone was staring at her, giving her funny looks. It didn't matter. She was free, her forgiveness the proof of her freedom.


	2. Part 2

**Old World Blues Part 2 **

Chapter 1

"I crush you... I crush your head...I'm crushing your head, I'm crushing your head and I'm crushing your head..."

Christine and the Courier sat together on the sofa, laughing hysterically. Yes Man had been right; the Kids in the Hall were really damn funny. It was just the right tonic. Christine had been right too, you need to let loose. Her hair was beginning to grow more fully, now covering her hideous scars. Her hair was black as the night and as soft as silk. The Courier loved to run his fingers through it as he was doing now, in between fits of uproarious laughter. It was easier to laugh now.

"It's a shame there's not more of those, around." Christine remarked as the holovid ended.

"Yeah."

"We should go to bed. We have a big day tomorrow."

"Yeah, but they're all big days now."

He rose, walking to the bedroom. Christine slid under the sheets with him, her hand landed on his crotch.

"But first, I think the Courier has a package to deliver."

They sat down in the Penthouse as Yes Man's face appeared on the screen.

"Hi there, boss. I've got your morning status update. Quarry Junction began operations yesterday. The Ranger Monument at the Mojave Outpost is being torn down as we speak. The Scrap will be recycled. Vault 11 is being sealed up today, making it the last of the Mojave Vaults to be destroyed." He shuddered at the mention of that place.

"The past five days have seen a 25.5% increase in traffic from trading caravans. Lineups at the Medical Clinic and the Old Mormon Fort have decreased as supplies and manpower has rolled in." That was good news. He saw Julie Farkas a few days ago; she looked so ragged her hair wasn't spiked anymore.

"Thanks to some help from Christine, the monorail is operating with 10% greater efficiency. If you manage to secure that contract, we should be able to have a fully functioning Monorail that could serve all of Vegas. The first floor of Cerulean Robotics has been cleared of debris. The Followers will start today repairing the equipment therein. If you secure that contract, soon we'll be able to start manufacturing those inferior little eyebots. I don't know why you insist on such an inferior model boss, and I'm not just saying that because I used to be a Securitrion. No, in many technical aspects..."

"Shut up, Yes Man. Next item."

"Okay, boss. I'm permanently assigning you a Securitron whenever you leave the Lucky 38. You're much more likely to be the target of assassination now that you're a big boss."

The Courier frowned. "I don't need a fucking bodyguard. Haven't you heard? I killed the Deathclaw Alpha Male by pulling down my pants and whipping out my Johnson."

"Now, boss, using sarcasm isn't going to stop an assassin. I calculate a 70% probability that you'll be the target of an assassination attempt within the next 50 days. False bravado like that is what's gotten people killed in the past."

"Dammit I don't need one!"

"Boss, remember that assertiveness upgrade? Well I'm using it now. I'm assigning you and Christine a dedicated Securitron whenever you're outside the Lucky 38. You'll thank me eventually, boss."

"He's got a point." Christine avowed.

The Courier sighed. "Fine."

Chapter 2

They walked out of the Lucky 38 at dawn, ED-E and a Securitron in tow. Christine wore light leather armour and the Q-35 Plasma Rifle slung over her back. He had his usual courier duster and 1st Recon beret. A Light Shining in Darkness holstered firmly at his side. Drunken revellers walked along the streets of the strip. A few turned to stare at the power couple. They walked towards the Freeside Gate when they noticed an impeccably dressed ghoul making his way toward them.

The Courier didn't need to be look at Christine to know she tensed.

"Ah, well, if it isn't my compatriots from the Sierra Madre. How good to see you, partner. Thanks for getting me into the Madre. It was quite... enlightening." Dean Domino intoned cheerfully.

The Courier said nothing, but his ambivalence was obvious.

"I see you hooked up with the mute? I guess I can't say I'm surprised, you never struck me as being a Casonova. I don't blame you, though. I like women who don't talk. They're much more obed..."

Christine's first slammed into Dean's ghoulified face. He fell flat on his back, scraps of rancid flesh hanging from the point of impact.

"Can you hear me now?" She asked.

Despite his ghoulified features, his shock was as clear as day.

"You're free to gamble, watch the shows, and even work here." The Courier began, voice as ice. "But if you so much as think of pulling something, I'll strap you to a post next to a Cazador nest and make sure they spend the next 200 years fucking you up the ass."

The ghoul's decayed features twisted into a malevolent frown as they walked away from him.

"We'll see about that... partner."

""I'll talk to Cachino, make sure he losses more than he wins."

"It's always been like that for him." Christine answered. "And he hasn't improved a single bit."

They found Craig Boone inspecting a cadre of cadets on the new parade square, fifty of them, the first members of the New Vegas army, stationed at Camp McCarran. They were from all over the Mojave. Some were recovered Fiends, some were Khans who hadn't died at Hoover Dam, some were from Freeside, Westside, a handful of NCR citizens had enlisted, severing ties with the Bear. They didn't have uniforms yet so they were wearing street clothes.

"Keep your feet at a 45 degree angle with your ankles touching...fists clenched... eyes straight, no looking around... keep your knees straight... If you're feeling stiff, flex your toes... Recruit Moralez, because you didn't ask permission to scratch yourself, give me 50 pushups."

Boone saw him and they nodded to another.

"He's a natural leader." Commented Dale Tallion, the tentative head of the New Vegas army. They hadn't decided on a rank structure yet, either. He defected from the NCR army after the second Battle of Hoover Dam. The day after the battle he walked right up the Lucky 38, spoke to a Securitron and asked for a job.

"Doesn't talk much, which means when he does, they listen."

"How are they doing?"

"Well as can be, I suppose. They're still pretty green, still having problems with drill and coordination, but we'll whip them into shape."

"I'm sure you will."

"So, have we decided whether I'm a general or not?"

They chuckled. "Not yet, I'm still working on it."

"You need to learn to delegate."

"I am delegating."

"Delegate more."

"Easier said than done. If I delegate to the wrong people, corruption will ensue."

Tallion nodded. They watched as the recruits poorly executed a right turn.

"Maybe a Securitron would make a better drill instructor. Instead of having to do pushups, you'll get fragged if you screw up." Tallion mused.

They laughed, but the Courier realized there might be some truth to this.

"Gun Runners are going to be making a delivery soon. Here's the manifest."

Tallion was impressed. The Courier tapped him on the shoulder. "I figured it would cheer you up."

Chapter 3

They continued their trek southward along the I-15. They spotted the odd Gecko but that was all. The I-15 was less treacherous than before; the activity at Quarry Junction had done much to scare creatures away. It wasn't just the noise but also the increased traffic. Caravans, some formerly with the Crimson Caravan Company, were hauling the lime to Boulder to be mixed into cement. The cement, rather than being siphoned away to the NCR, would now serve to rebuild New Vegas.

"What's this place?" Christine asked as they turned Westward on the road.

"Goodsprings."

"Where you rose from the grave."

"Yep. The people here are good; I haven't seen them in a while."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our Courier. How are you? You must be doing well since you got yourself a lady friend." Trudy greeted them warmly.

"Pretty good thanks. This is Christine. Christine, Trudy."

"Nice to meet ya, then. What can I get ya, it's on the house."

"I'll have a Rum and Nuka." The Courier asked.

"Just water, thanks." They sat down at the barstools.

The door opened and in walked Easy Pete.

"Howdy." The Courier and Easy Pete greeted another warmly.

"Well don't just stand there, Pete, let the town know the Courier's here."

Trudy served them their drinks, and poured herself some Scotch.

"Actually, all the help you did for us, dealin' with those powder gangers, I never did catch your name."

"It doesn't matter now." She frowned at him.

"Well of course it matters. If you don't have a name..."

"Well, hey there. It's mighty good to see you again." Doc Mitchell tapped the Courier on his back.

"Thanks Doc, it's good to see you too."

"How's your noggin'? I hope no one else rummaged around up there, messin' up my handy work."

The Courier laughed, the only reaction he could think of.

Sunny Smiles followed the Doc, Cheyenne in tow. She smiled when laying eyes upon the Courier, but her smile faded when seeing Christine. She tried to hide it, but it didn't escape Christine's notice. Alcohol and companionship eased the tensions. They drank merrily together, recounting the soon to be famous tale of the Goodsprings Gunfight.

The next morning they walked further south on the I-15. Primm was more active, the Bison hotel was open for business as was the Vicky and Vance casino. The NCR had withdrawn from the town, the camp torn down. Sheriff Meyers was all too happy to use the leftover equipment. Sandbag emplacements now lined every entrance to the town. A couple of deputies stood watch, a massive crate behind them holding the temporarily confiscated weapons of visitors.

The Mojave Outpost was difficult to see from afar. Before the monument's destruction, the bodies of the hung misfits had to be removed. He'd intended for Camp Golf to fall, he saw the Misfits as the base's Achilles heel, but he hadn't intended or anticipated for the Misfits to be summarily executed. He'd ordered their bodies to be given a respectful burial and wrote letters of condolence to their families. He owed them that much.

A few Securitrons manned the outpost, acting as heavily armed customs agents. Their main purpose was symbolic, letting the visitors know they were now in New Vegas, and the NCR way of doing things was gone.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy was in the HQ, her desk peppered with various documents. Her face was ragged. An aide was standing by her desk, anxiously holding a clipboard.

"What the fuck do you have? I'm trying to get some work done!" The aide said nothing as she handed the clipboard over.

"More fucking reports? Well, thank you so very fucking much." She put the clipboard down on her desk. The aide scurried away.

The Courier knocked on the door frame.

"What the fuck is it now?" She scorned, not looking up.

"It's Long Dick Johnson."

She looked up and her expression instantly changed.

She stood up and hugged him warmly, planting a light kiss on his cheek. She regretted doing this when she saw Christine staring at her hardly.

"Oh, Eh...I'm so glad to see you. What are you doing down here?"

"Good to see you too. Just wanting to see how you're doing."

"Oh, I'm doing great. Sitting here being shafted with paperwork is like fighting at Hoover Dam, only more exciting."

"I picked you to coordinate everything because you have caravanning experience. If you need help, let me know. I'm not some evil overlord in a tube."

She nodded. "The job's fine, I can coordinate no problem, it's just the mountains of paperwork."

"Hire someone, then. We have enough caps to cover it."

Cass sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Look, I got a meeting so I'll catch you later."

She nodded and gave him another hug. It was rare for her to hug anyone this way; life had made it hard for her to expression affection. She wished events had unfolded differently. She wished she was at his side, like before, only moreso. Before she'd been so filled with booze and regret, she wasn't in her best shape; she wasn't the woman he needed. But if she'd been sober, like she was now...

Christine remained behind while the Courier walked to the Barracks.

"Listen, I'm sorry...I didn't know..." Cass began.

"It's okay." Christine replied, her face softer now. "The more time I spend with him the more I learn about how much he got around before." They both chuckled.

"Yeah, no hiding that!" They shared a laugh and Cass resumed more seriously. "He's a great man. You're a very lucky woman. Take care of him."

Christine nodded and flashed Cass a warm smile. "Take care of yourself, too."

The Courier sat down at a barstool. Next to him was a middle aged man, thin yet fit. His hair was grey, his face littered with hard lines, and his deep set brown eyes observed the world with the intensity of a starving Deathclaw. His hardened appearance contrasted with his impeccable dress. His three piece suit, as grey as hair, was made of the most expensive fabrics, his shoes were polished to a glossy shine, not a speck of dust was on the man.

"Thank you for seeing me." The man ordered two Scotches.

"It's the least I can do. I don't like talking to people through video screens. It's so impersonal."

"I'm glad to see you're quite different from your predecessor."

"So am I."

The Scotches arrived. They toasted and sipped. Christine joined them.

"Shall we get to business?"

The man nodded. "I've studied your order; the list of items you require is quite extensive. However I'm fully confident that we can accommodate this order. This order, once completed, will make our shareholders extremely happy. But there is a certain risk factor. Your polity is quite unpopular at the moment. Even those politicians who opposed to Mojave campaign hold a certain disdain for this fine place. If it were to be discovered that our humble company were to be one of the main suppliers of your reconstruction, they would look quite unfavourably upon us."

"I understand the risk you're exposed to. But there are ways to mitigate that risk, falsified documents, dummy companies; you know them better than I."

"We're quite well versed with the grey nature of these transactions. What I mean to say is that the risk forces us to increase costs, costs which must be covered, costs which..."

"Must be passed onto the buyer. How much?"

"An extra Fifty thousand caps."

This was marginal, a small percentage of the total order. Vegas made that much money in a few days. Not to mention his own treasury, accumulated by jury rigging, prospecting and doing odd jobs. Still, he couldn't fully succumb to this demand.

"I find that excessive. Fifteen thousand."

"Insulting. Forty thousand."

" Twenty thousand."

" Might I point out that the reconstruction of your city is your first priority? You need this order. Thirty thousand."

"Without this order your company will be absolved by a rival. Or succumb to bankruptcy. Twenty Five thousand."

"Agreed." They shook hands, an Old World gesture that hadn't died, despite its irrelevance. The Courier detected a flash of respect in those eyes of his.

"We expect your initial deposit forthwith. Upon reception, we will begin manufacture and delivery within two weeks of receipt. This is our anticipated delivery schedule." He hand the Courier some documents. "As much as I enjoy travel and your company, I suggest further contact be made via video link using a descrambler."

"Agreed."

Chapter 4 

"It's ironic after booting out the NCR, they're still willing to sell you industrial equipment." Christine remarked, journeying from the Outpost back to the Strip. "They're a nation of whores." He answered and then chided himself when he recalled where he first heard those words. "They expand everywhere, for reasons they don't understand, using symbols they don't understand, emulating a nation they know nothing of. They try to do everything, and as a result achieve nothing."

"I don't understand how pre-war America led the world for so long."

"They only led the world to nuclear fire. And the NCR wants to do it all over again, even if they don't know it. They must be stopped."

Christine didn't disagree. "But you're not gonna attack them?"

"No, not yet. Vegas still needs them. And the NCR has many enemies. The Arizona tribes are causing problems on their borders, now that the Legion's grasp is weakening. I want the people of the NCR to come here, to see there's a different way, to cast aside the dead symbols of a dead world. Maybe, inspire a revolution or two."

It was early evening, note quite dusk, and the sun was peaking over the Western buildings of Freeside. Even though the day was almost done, the Sun beamed fiercely on those below. The searing Mojave sun was difficult to become accustomed to, some never did. They were looking forward to sleeping in their own bed, years of roughing it in the wastes made them appreciate the small comforts.

ED-E's battle music began blaring.

"Threat Detected. 9 O'clock high. Engaging target. Obtain cover."

Christine and The Courier Ducked as the crack of a rifle shattered the day's calmness. He covered her body with his own. The bullet audibly whizzed by them, impacting a few short feet away.

ED-E and the Securitron opened fire on a third story window of the building next to them. ED-E carpeted the gap with his laser fire; the Securitron utilized its grenade launcher and Gatling laser. He saw movement in the window as the would-be assassin ran from his hiding place. Another grenade impacted behind him. The concussion of the blast sent the man flying through the air, out through another window and onto the street.

The assassin cried aloud in pain as he landed, breaking both of his kness. His left arm had been severed and blood was flowing like water from a broken drain. "Hold your fire!" The Courier ordered. "You okay?" He asked Christine, his heart beating, not for his own safety, but for hers. "Yeah. You?" "Fine." They rose and walked to the assassin, writhing in agony on the floor.

The assassin, a young man not yet in his twenties, spat when he saw them walking towards him. Though he continued to writhe and cry in agony, his face pale from loss of blood though his eyes were oddly lucid.

"Who sent you?" The Courier asked.

The assassin cracked a pained smile. "You fuck with the bear... you get mauled...asshole." The man coughed up blood, but his writhing had stopped. Death was knocking at the door, and the man was eager to answer its call.

"Duty... honour...courage...Semper... Fi." His eyes glazed over as life left him.

To be Continued in Part 3


	3. Part 3

**Old World Blues Part 3**

Chapter 1

"What can you tell me of him?" The Courier was surprised to find himself shaken. He'd survived far worse than this. Why, how had this lone man, with one badly aimed bullet, shaken him so badly? Christine was disturbed too, though he could tell she was trying to hide it.

"Aren't you glad you listened to me?"

"Yes. Who was he?"

"His ID papers say his name was Enrique Gonzalez. An NCR citizen who passed through Mojave outpost 4 days ago. I've hacked into NCR's computer network but found no trace of him. Most likely that name's an alias. He was monitored walking away from the Gun Runners booth one day ago with a hunting rifle. He tried to get into the strip but couldn't pass the credit check. He then spent a few hours at the Atomic Wrangler."

"It looks like NCR." Christine remarked.

"I postulate a 70% chance this was NCR, boss." Yes Man concurred.

"I guess." The Courier looked out the window, lost in thought.

"Yes Man, see if you can get the NCR President on the line."

"Sure thing, boss."

There was a delay of a half hour before the President appeared onscreen. The Courier didn't doubt this was intentional. The President was a dour looking woman, puffy cheeks, greying black hair. She was probably in her forties but she looked a decade older. Her face wore a serious expression.

"Hello. I'm President Cheryl Tandi. It's good to meet our new neighbor to the North. You've certainly taken your time in contacting us. Congratulations on your new position. I hope a positive dialogue can exist between our two nations." False courtesies. Par for the course.

"Mister, eh... What do I call you?"

"Courier."

"But... surely you have a proper Christian name?"

"I have a name that was thrust upon me when I was born out of a womb. An Old World name. Courier is the name I've chosen for myself. It is a name history will remember." There were times he couldn't avoid sounding like Ulysses.

"You're not the first person to choose a _nom de guerre_. But surely..."

"I am he who is."

It was like he'd slapped her. She took a few moments to recover.

"Well... I suppose modesty is not one of your vices."

He said nothing, continuing to stare at her.

"Well, mister, eh, Courier. Let me begin by saying that I regret any past acts of aggression committed by the NCR against your territory. It was a... misjudgment of previous administrations. I assure you these will not reoccur in the future. We have... other tactical and strategic priorities at the moment. Your arrival made us realize it was time to... re-examine our priorities."

"I'm relieved to hear that."

"And let me further state that we recognize your... forthrightness with NCR citizens, allowing free transit, and such. This act shows us you're not hostile to our interests. We also recognize the value of the electricity you supply to our northern lands. We find the current rate quite generous, compared to what some of our private monopolies charge."

The Courier nodded. "Let me state that I have only the warmest intentions to the NCR and that the methods I chose were chosen because they minimized NCR casualties."

"Yes, we recognize that." She blinked involuntarily. A lie.

"I regret not contacting you sooner, but building a nation is very time consuming. I regret I have no further time to spare, but I've enjoyed our chat today and I looked forward to further talks in the future."

"As do I, Mr. Courier. Perhaps one day we can re-open our embassy in your fair city. Good day to you."

He sighed as Christine sat on the sofa next to him, they put their arms around another and he caressed her fine hair. Something about this didn't feel right. It made sense for them to do something like this, especially out in the open, where it would damage his credibility and make him look vulnerable. It was a win-win from their limited point of view. It was those assassin's last words. They didn't sound like typical NCR jargon. He thought there was some Latin in there. It wasn't like the NCR to use Latin. Could he have worked for the Legion?

"Yes Man, get Arcade in the Big MT for me."

There was a delay before Arcade's face appeared on the big screen.

"What is it?" Arcade asked. "I was told it was urgent?"

"Yeah it is. It's a bit... complicated but something happened today, I was... attacked...and the attacker, I think he used some Latin. I could use your help."

"Sure."

"He said Semper Fi."

Arcade nodded. "Sempier Fidelis. Means Always Loyal or Always Faithful. It was used as the slogan of a few pre-war military outfits, like the United States Marine Corps. More recently, though not surprisingly, it was often used in the Enclave. What was the context?"

The Courier repeated them.

"Yeah, that's standard Enclave mantra. Embellished a bit, but that sounds like Enclave to me."

The Enclave. Another ghostly apparition.

"Did the Legion ever use those words?"

"Not that I know."

The Courier thanked him.

"Still think it's the NCR?"

"My calculations haven't wavered." Yes Man began. "I detected several behavioural traits that indicate the President was lying. They stand the most to gain by knocking you off. It's possible the usage of Semper Fidelis was meant as a red herring, since you're known to have associated with Remnants of the Enclave and everyone associates Latin with the Legion."

That was true. "Does the Enclave even... exist now?"

"Unknown. There are rumours of Enclave outposts scattered throughout the wastes, but nothing confirmed. It's possible they're existing much like their former nemesis, the Brotherhood of Steel, in isolated bunkers, marking time until they die off."

"I need to think over this."

He and Christine lay in bed, silently holding another. They did not sleep that night.

Chapter 2 

"I think we have to do some detective work." The Courier said, strapping into his Elite Riot Armour, by far the favourite of all the gear he'd found over his travels and adventures.

Christine nodded anxiously as she stepped into some modified Combat Armour. The new Armour was part of Yes Man's new precautions. News of the assassination attempt had spread like wildfire. Some of the public were angry at the news, blaming the NCR. A few NCR citizens had been assaulted on the Strip. Only the Securitrons had stopped these people from being beaten to death. It was heartening to know they cared about his safety; it was proof that his good deeds had not gone unnoticed. But the violence was regrettable, counterproductive; it would only complicate things with the NCR.

"We'll be okay." He held Christine's arm. She nodded weakly and tried to smile, but it didn't work.

"You can stay here."

She vigorously shook her lead and her eyes bore into his. "I love you."

Nothing more needed to be said.

A small crowd had gathered outside the Lucky 38, being held at bay by a wall of Securitrons. A few bouquets of Honey Mesquite had been placed at the 38's entrance. They cheered when he exited. He awkwardly waved to them, having never been the receiver of public affection.

"What do I do?" He asked Christine.

"I don't know... give them a speech maybe?"

He groaned. "I'm not exactly big on speeches." He'd rather run through a Deathclaw Infested cave with nothing other than a party hat than give a speech. But the crowd wasn't dispersing. He removed the facemask from his helm and spoke to the crowd.

"People of New Vegas..." He began, cringing inwardly. "Thank you for your support. It means a lot to me. It reminds me that all I've done hasn't gone unnoticed. It also reminds me, we still have a lot of work to do. And no one is going to stop us." They cheered.

"Remind them not to assault random strangers." Christine chided.

"And... whatever you may feel, remember, mob violence is not the solution. Those responsible will be uncovered and I alone will make them pay a price."

The crowd cheered and dispersed, as ordered by the Securitrons. He silently cursed; a few weeks ago he was able to walk freely along these streets without protection. Now he had to be fully armoured with a couple of Securitrons.

"You think that was a good speech, ED-E?"

ED-E beeped affirmatively.

"ED-E, I think we should change your battle music."

ED-E strenuously objected and the Courier and Christine laughed.

They walked to the Atomic Wrangler. Francine Garrett was tending the bar.

"Hi there. How are you doing?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm okay when people aren't taking potshots at us." He admitted.

"What'll it be? I haven't seen you here too often lately. I could use your debt collecting skills again."

"No thanks, I'm too busy right now. Look, the guy who shot us, spent some time here, lost a fair amount of caps. Remember him?"

Francine nodded.

"Yeah he showed up midday. He had a few beers and told me he thought Vegas was stuck up because of the Credit Check. I told him our slots were a good way to gain some caps. He spent... I don't know, maybe 2 hours at those things before he ran out of chips... He was really drunk by then... He was ranting and raving about how Vegas was a rip-off and something had to change. I had one of the guard escort him out."

"Which guard?" Francine pointed him out. "Anything else you remember about him."

Francine shrugged. "We get lots of people who lose a lot of caps and get mad about it. He's the first one to ever try to take a shot at the big boss."

"Thanks."

They walked to the guard. "Remember the guy you threw out the other day."

The Guard nodded. "Yeah. Heard he took a shot at ya. What an asshole."

"What do you remember of him?"

"Not much, he's just like every other broke bum I have to drag out of this joint. Well, actually, there was one thing. When I kicked him out he was hollering and swearing and shit. And there was this ghoul just outside, watching him. I never saw a ghoul like him, he was dressed to the fuckin' nines, you know? This ghoul walks over to the guy and starts talking to him."

"Did you hear him?"

"No, he was too far. I could tell he had some kind of...weird accent, like he wipes his ass with silk toilet paper, you know?"

"Thanks."

"Dean Domino." Christine and the Courier said simultaneously.

Chapter 3

"Swank. Where's Dean?"

The last time Swank saw the Courier with that look in his eyes, he'd slaughtered Benny. It was best not to interfere. There was no better friend, and no worse enemy.

"He's in the performers change room backstage. Listen, don't make a big mess like time, alright?"

They didn't hear his plea.

Dean Domino was enjoying the luxuries of being the new star attraction of the Tops Casino. His Pre-War image could still be found inside these walls. His voice was still strong and resonant for a ghoul his age, though the days of doing two hour shows were long gone. His peers, if they could be termed as such, were mediocrities. There was the singer Bruce Issac, some lonesome drifter with a twangy guitar, and a couple of unfunny "comedians". Third raters, the lot.

He was shocked, though not altogether surprised when his door was kicked in. He was thrown out of his chair onto the floor. Christine's boot was on his throat and the Courier stood above him, eyes full of vengeance, and a bloodstained combat knife in his hand.

"Well, I see Zeus and Hera have descended from Mount Olympus to associate with us pitiable poor mortals." He said with obvious disdain. The Courier knew that tone of voice well, it was the same tone he used when speaking of Frederick Sinclair.

"You were seen conversing with a man who later tried to kill us. Talk."

"Or what?"

"Or you'll find out how unpleasant Cazadors can be."

"I survived two hundred years in the Madre. I think I can handle a few bugs."

Christine grabbed his arm and twisted it, breaking it. The Ghoul cried out in pain. Broken bones didn't heal like they used to. They didn't heal at all, in fact.

"Ok... ok...I'll talk." He gasped for air. Christine lessened the pressure on his throat. Slightly.

"I met that chap outside the Wrangler. He was quite displeased about losing his caps. He told me he desperately wanted to get into the strip. He was desperate for money, creditors were after him. I told him I'd sponsor him, I'd be his guide. I leant him 2000 caps to pass the check. I took him through the staff entrance here. He had front row seats to my performance. Alas, he wasn't impressed. I spoke with him after the show. Said he thought Vegas was full of uppity shit. He gave me half of my caps back and said he was going to stay at Vault 21 for the night then head back to the NCR. That was the last I saw or heard of him. I swear."

"Why'd you lend him caps? You're not the philanthropic type." The Courier asked.

"I thought he deserved a shot to win a fortune here. There's no harm in giving a man a chance, is there?" He could tell they didn't believe him. "A long, long time ago. I was trapped, singing in dank bars in some small, forgotten town, hosting karaoke nights, wasting my talents. I knew I had a great voice, but I was broke. I needed a record deal, a big showcase gig, a break, anything to get me noticed. One day, after slogging through some Sinatra number for the hundredth time, a man approached me. He said he was with a record company and wanted me to record a single. He showed me his card. He arranged the recording session. 3 Months later, I was a star. You see, if that man didn't take a chance on me, a lowdown stranger stuck in the middle of nowhere, I would've been stuck in that dank shithole of a town forever. I figure the kid needed a shot, just like I did, once."

The Courier and Christine looked at another. He could be telling the truth, he could also be lying. It was hard to trust Dean; you never knew when he was twisting the knife in your back. Sinclair and Vera Keyes didn't know until it was too late.

"I'm holding you in custody." He motioned to a Chairman bodyguard, hovering nervously outside the room. "Take him to the holding cell, in the old NCR MP HQ." The Chairman nodded. A Securitron was waiting outside, to ensure Dean went to his intended destination. The Courier thought it odd Dean didn't protest this.

Chapter 4 

"Oh, hi there! If it isn't my favourite Vault explorer... Speaking of which, it's been a while since my vault's been explored!" Sarah Weintraub greeted them cheerfully.

"What is it with you, anyway?" Christine sardonically remarked. The Courier shook his head and waved his hand.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about me, missy. I don't mind sharing."

"I do." Christine said firmly.

"Look," The Courier began, eager to change the subject. "You heard what happened?"

Sarah nodded; worry appearing on face. "I heard on the radio. I'm glad you're okay. Why, it's such a crazy world out there. It's so much safer inside, you'd be better to stay in the whole time."

"The man who tried to shoot us stayed here."

"Yeah, I heard about that, too."

"What can you tell us?"

Sarah punched some keys into her computer. "Well he checked in at 5:30 three days ago, and checked out at midday the next day."

"Do you remember anything about him?"

"Not really. I only tend the shop. I heard he spent some time in the canteen."

"Okay. Thanks."

They descended in to the Vault-Hotel. This Vault had a cleanliness that made it as lifeless as the other Vault's he'd seen. They came to the canteen and they spoke to the head server.

"Yeah, he was here three days ago, around early evening. He was by himself most of the time, buying booze. He was sitting at the bar, feeling sorry for himself, saying he deserved better, stuff like that. About, I dunno, a couple of hours later this girl sits next to him and they start chatting. I heard a bit what they were talking about. She was blowing sunshine up his ass, telling him she could help him get up again. After a while they left and they were heading towards the rooms."

"Did you see which room they went to?"

"No."

"Do you know the woman's name? When did he get here? Leave?"

"I first saw her three of four days ago. In and out, she was hanging out, playing craps, and having a few drinks. Rather nondescript. I haven't seen her since that night."

"What did she look like?"

She described her. A young, fit woman in her early 20s, wearing a grey suit and armed with a Plasma Pistol.

"Sarah, look through your records. We're looking for a woman who checked in 3 or 4 days ago and left yesterday morning."

She did so and frowned. "I'm sorry, I can't find anything. I can't find any woman who booked in 3 or 4 days ago. That's really weird. If I didn't know any better, I'd say I've been hacked."

"Where to now?" Christine asked.

"The Gun Runners shack."

Isaac was diligently working away on the reloading bench. It seemed that was all he did.

"How are you?" He asked them, his voice anxious.

"We've been better. We heard the guy who shot us came here to buy the rifle."

Isaac nodded. "Yeah, we're, eh, sorry about that. We didn't know he was gonna go shoot you." The Courier nodded.

"Look, I figured you'd be coming so I made a holotape from the Vendotron's visual records from that day." He handed The Courier a holotape. "Thanks, Isaac."

"Anything for our best customer."

Chapter 5

They plugged in the holotape to the computer. Nervous anticipation filled the Penthouse. The video showed the same nondescript view for a few minutes before a man, his would be assassin, approached the Vendotron, in the company of the woman described. The man was nervous, tentative walking towards the Vendotron.

"Welcome Sir, or Madam. Would you like to purchase something?"

"Yes." The woman intoned. The man looked at her, uncertainty on his face, before facing the Vendotron.

"A Hunting rifle. A dozen rounds of .308 Armour Piercing Ammo. A scope as well."

"Total cost 1834 caps."

The woman handed over the currency and soon they were in possession of their weapons.

The woman loaded the rifle and attached the scope. Then she reached into her pocket and handed him a Psycho syringe.

"Just wait in the third floor of that building we agreed on. Once he goes by, you'll have a clear vantage point. If you do the job, I'll pay you 40, 000 caps. More than triple what you owe. If you get caught, I'll send the money to your family and you won't have any more debts. And don't forget the words. Deal?" The man nodded. She gave him the rifle; he slung it over his shoulder. The conspirators parted ways, the woman walking northwards, out of sight.

"Yes Man, I want every Securitron's memory scanned for that woman."

"Already working on it, boss."

The Courier sighed. "What do you think, Yes Man."

"Still computing, boss. It's possible this woman isn't related to the NCR, it's also possible she is NCR. It's possible she's working independently, or for an unknown third party. It's difficult to assign mathematical certainty to these factors without more data, boss."

They went back up to the Suite. They lay on the sofa together, tired and weary after a long couple of days. They slept uneasily that night.

The Courier found himself north of Vegas, near the northern passage to Zion. A dark sky was brooding overheard, storm clouds whirring violently, as if a tornado were about to be unleashed. The ground shook violently and he fell. He looked above and saw a giant mechanical monstrosity marching towards him. He rolled away, narrowly avoiding being crushed by its steel feet.

"Democracy is not negotiable." It intoned, like something from a pre-war propaganda holovid.

"Communism is a lie. America will always triumph." The Robot began shooting lasers from its eyes, laying waste to the towers of the Strip. Gomorrah. The Tops. The Ultra-Luxe. The Lucky 38. The saucer of the 38 spun and flew outwards. Even though he was far away, he could see Christine's body falling out from a massive hole in the saucer. He screamed her name and he could hear her screaming as she fell to her death. He heard the squashing sound of her body hitting the ground.

He saw dozens of Vertibirds land, unloading Enclave soldiers, wearing power armour and yielding Gatling Lasers, Plasma Casters, Missile Launchers, the most powerful weapons he'd seen. They destroyed every building they ran into. The Vegas Medical Clinic, the H&H Tools building, the Crimson Caravan Fort, the Gun Runners building, nothing escaped their wrath. A giant, two headed Yao-Guai, it's fur aflame, jumped overhead. He attacked the Enclave soldiers, growing bigger as more and more fire was laid into it, like it was feeding on the weapons fire.

He heard mocking laughter. Sitting next to him was Dean Domino, sitting in a throne chair, nursing a cigarette. "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the happiest one of all." The Giant Robot stopped his merciless attack and addressed Dean. "There can be no happiness so long as communism lives." "Who's happier then, me or him?" "You are, Dean, for communism is a lie." Dean laughed. "See, you're not so happy now, are you? Still think you're happier than me?"

He looked up to the sky and saw dozens of streaming contrails, ICBMs coming from all directions, heading towards the Vegas Strip. The explosions blinded him and his skin melted. The ground began to shake and was tossed about by some unseen force like a ragdoll.

He awoke, Christine shaking him. "Holy fuck!" He swore. "What is it? You're sweating!" Concern plain on her face. "The nightmare of history."

Chapter 6

"Yes Man, I want to investigate the Enclave angle. I'm going to Jacobstown to talk to Marcus. He knows a thing or two about them."

"You know boss, you really don't have to do this. You could just send a Securitron up there and speak to him via video link."

"I'm not Mr. House. I'm the Courier."

Christine and the Courier left the 38, ED-E and two Securitrons in tow. He was almost getting used to their presence. He and Christine wordlessly walked towards Jacobstown. The snow covered peaks were a nice change from the sun baked desert.

Jacobstown was growing nicely. There were now almost a hundred Nightkin and Supermutants living more or less peacefully. Marcus was at the main gate, as always maintaining a vigilant watch.

"It's good to see you, Courier."

"Good to see you too, Marcus. How have things been?"

"Fairly good. Doc Henry's making some good progress. He hasn't told me, but he thinks he's close to a cure."

"Why hasn't he told you?"

"He doesn't want to raise false hopes. Listen, thanks a lot for your help. I've only ever met two humans in my life who've ever been helpful to our kind."

"You guys deserve it. It's not like your some dumb green monsters that randomly show up in illogical places and start blasting away."

Marcus nodded, he seemed almost grateful for the compliment. "One of our new arrivals I think is an old friend of yours. He said he came from some place called the Sierra Madre. Has the name Dog carved on his chest."

Both Christine and the Courier nodded.

"How's he doing?"

"He's doing quite well. He's the least schizophrenic Nightkin I've ever met. I suspect he has you to thank for that."

"Listen, I'm here on important business, Marcus. We need to talk."

"Go on."

"Tell me what you know of the Enclave."

"Why?"

"I need to know about them. I think they might've been behind my assassination attempt."

"That's serious. I don't see how likely it is. But you never know, there are so many underground bunkers lying about. Here's what I know." Marcus went on, about Broken Hills, the Chosen One, and the Poseidon Oil Rig. He'd heart parts of this story before, but never in such detail. The Courier and Christine listened, they asked many questions. Christine had heard of the Enclave, they were almost a mythical adversary, but contact had been lost so long ago they'd assumed the status of a boogeyman, a spook story to convince kids to go to bed early. To hear from a firsthand witness was much more insightful than reading a book or watching a holovid.

"What did the assassin say to you?"

The Courier told him. Marcus froze in his tracks.

"I've heard those words before. The last words of Frank Horrigan."

Both Christine and the Courier swore.

"Listen, Courier. I like what you're doing here... so far. I hope it ends up working out. The Wasteland needs new ways. You've got the best chance as any. Just don't foul it up."

"I won't."

"If you need our help, it's yours."

"Thanks, Marcus."

"Nothing new to report on the investigation, boss. The mysterious woman was last seen leaving the strip in the company of the assassin on their way to the Gun Runners. We've no record of her going through Mojave Outpost or Cottonwood Cove. "

"She could be anywhere, she could be anyone." Christine sighed.

The Courier sighed. "We're nowhere. We know a little bit but there's a lot more we don't know." He and Christine held another. Neither of them had ever been this worried. If they at least knew who the assassin was really working for, they could plan for that. But there were so many unknowns.

The ground shook. An alarm sounded as Yes Man appeared on the big screen.

"What is it?"

"I've got some bad news boss. There was an explosion in the old NCR MP prison. Someone blew a big hole in the southern wall. I estimate an 80% probability that Dean Domino's escaped. Securitrons report seeing two figures fleeing to the North East, riding on an old Pre-War motorcycle."


	4. Part 4 & Epilogue

**Old World Blues Part 4 **

Chapter 1 

"We're going after him, this isn't negotiable." The Courier hurriedly put on his Elite Riot Armour.

"Don't get too hasty, boss. This could be a trap. I think you should slow down, take some deep breaths and think this over."

"Shut Up, Yes Man." Christine said it this time, clad in her Upgraded Combat Armour. She retrieved her old silenced Sniper Rifle. It brought back memories, of the quarry she'd missed, the quarry that turned the tables on her and almost killed her.

The Courier pulled out his Anti-Material Rife, his 12.7mm SMG, Joshua's pistol and Chance's Combat Knife. He holstered a handful of frag grenades.

"Don't worry Yes Man, we'll take a couple of Securitrons with us."

"ED-E's coming too." Christine added. She was starting to like that determined Eyebot.

"Boss, I really think this is a bad idea."

"Right now, we don't care what you think."

Christine and The Courier each hopped onto a shoulder of a Securitron as it began speeding away. Hanging on was surprisingly easy. The Securitrons detected the tracks left by the motorcycle, making tracking an easy task. They were following a path that led roughly to the former Sierra Madre, though more to the North.

After a few hours their pursuit reached an apparent end. An abandoned, torn building stood on the horizon, the motorcycle discarded nearby. The House was only thing that distinguished itself from the desolate environment. It overlooked a vast chasm, a crater hundreds of feet deep and wide. The crater was dead, devoid of even plant life. The soil was black as charcoal. The house was barely standing, a few beams still stood, but that was all. They saw a trap door. There was nowhere else they could've gone.

"Scan that door; are there any traps or wires nearby?"

"Negative."

"Can you scan below us?"

"Negative. Receiving interference at any depth below 3 feet."

Christine and the Courier stared at another intently, and then at the door. The Courier grabbed a plank of wood. Christine stood far away. He ran the plank through the latch and gingerly pulled. He closed his eyes as the door slowly opened. They breathed a sigh of relief.

The entrance way was extremely narrow; it was barely large enough for them to enter single file. It was too narrow for ED-E, let alone their Securitrons. There was a simple wooden ladder to descend.

"Set up a perimeter. Maintain active scanning."

"Affirmative."

The Courier led the way as they descended to a cramped, darkened basement. The room was arid but cool. The Courier crouched, enabling the armour's night vision to kick in. They were in a hallway, the rooms around them were blocked off by debris, the only way was forward. He crept forward a few paces, retrieving his knife. He saw a tripwire ahead. He gingerly disconnected it. He looked forward and saw a few more. He looked above and saw proximity mines glued onto the walls. This wasn't hastily setup. This was planned. How long had been Dean up to something?

"I'll handle the wires, you do the mines." He told Christine. She nodded and together they cleared the gauntlet of traps. It was difficult work but they managed it. At the end of the gauntlet the corridor curved to the left and they noticed the floor was angled downward, they were descending.

He saw no further traps. As they descended he noticed the walls resembled less and less that of a domestic household. The walls became cold hard steel, where before they'd been dusty drywall. They cautiously walked, their eyes actively scanning everything. Anything, however innocuous, could be a deadly trap. The corridor wound down until they came to a steel plated door.

The door was adorned with the logo of an "E" with thirteen stars encircling it.

They looked at another, worried.

"We can't turn back." The Courier said. Christine agreed with him. He grabbed her hands. "I love you." He said to her, it was more than an expression of affection; it was a mantra, an exhortation to persevere, to never back down in the face of adversity. "I love you." She mimicked, squeezing his hands. They awkwardly hugged another, saying nothing for several moments.

He pressed the button and the doors opened before them, a Leviathan opening its jaws, beckoning only the rashest to enter its belly. They nodded to another as the doors closed behind them.

There was no doubt they were in a military installation. This reminded them of the Hidden Valley bunker. The walls, cold and antiseptic. The ceilings lined with piping and blue fluorescent lights. Grated, noisy floors beneath them. They were in another hallway. There was the gentle humming of the reactor, coursing power through this facility's veins. The heard nothing else, no footsteps, no beeping of machines. No signs of any activity at all. This place seemed dead, yet there was no doubting it was very much alive.

Cautiously they advanced until they reached a T-junction. They saw nothing but empty hallways, not even Turrets were setup. Either path presented another indistinctive hallway.

The Courier turned towards Christine. She silently shrugged. He sighed and veered right. The hallway curved slightly, towards the left and subtly sloping downward. They slowly continued on, scanning for more traps. They spotted several dome cameras, though both assumed they'd been surveyed since they'd entered the basement of the house. The hallway continued on, there were no other exits, or junctions, just one long corridor. Had they been less experienced, they would've grown impatient and turned around, or forced forward. But even though they were on a mission of vengeance, they retained their cool demeanour.

The corridor straightened out and led to a closed door. They looked at another silently, though saying more than words could, before pressing the button to open it. There were doors on each wall of the four-sided room, but otherwise the room was empty, nondescript. The door closed behind them. As it closed they heard a loud hissing noise, white vaporous gas began flooding into the room. They reached for the door, desperately pressing the open button but it wouldn't budge. After a few moments they realized the futility of this and held another as they lost consciousness.

Chapter 2

He felt heavy. Where was he? What was this strange beeping noise? Who was talking?

"They're regaining consciousness."

"Excellent."

Why was that voice familiar to him?

He struggled to open his eyes; his vision was blurry, though becoming increasingly clear. He tried to move but was restrained. He was in a white room, a lab. He was upright, restraints on his arms and legs. His weapons and armour nowhere to be seen. He looked around. A feminine shape... Christine next to him, a few feet away, likewise restrained. A couple of AutoDocs, surgical beds, first aid kits, cabinets, a desk and chair, and before him was... Dean Domino, his arm in a sling but otherwise dressed impeccably as ever. And a fair haired woman... the woman who'd aided his would-be assassin. She wore a grey uniform, he now recognized the Enclave insignia on the shoulder pads. She stared at him and Christine impassively, standing ramrod straight.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." He said, his voice oozing with menace and a faint air of triumphalism. He rubbed his hands together, an obscene smile coasting upon his parched lips.

"This is going so well. So much better than my last grand scheme for revenge."

"Revenge for what?" The Courier asked.

"Revenge for what?" Dean shot back, offended. "Didn't you listen to a word I told you in the Tampico? I wanted to get at Sinclair because he was *happier* than me. I saw how desperate you were in the Madre, with no fancy weapons or armour, a time bomb strapped onto your neck. You told me about New Vegas. A new shining monument built atop the ruins of the old. I figured I could find a new home there. Perform again; bask in the adoration of the crowds. And then... then I saw you two...big, smug, satisfied smiles on your faces, everyone fawning at you like you're something special. You're not some kingpin, a head of state; you're just a glorified delivery boy. You're just a petty assassin with a new voice... *Vera's* voice. Oh... you can't comprehend the vile obscenity it is to hear you, your ugly mug and scarred head, speak with Vera's voice. I'll teach *you* to dare to parade yourselves in front of me. "

"So this is my revenge. I'm going to destroy everything you hold dear, just as I almost did with Sinclair. Your precious New Vegas is soon going to be reduced to rubble. The Enclave will flatten it with their Vertibirds and... whatever else they use. Best of all, I'm going to destroy you. You'll see, first hand, everything you love and treasure turned to ash, and then, we'll introduce you to a friend of ours known as FEV. It'll mutate you beyond recognition but your memories will remain perfectly intact. I'll leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever." He laughed, quite satisfied with himself. "Letting go of the past, you always say. But here you are, you chased me, unable to let go. But first... we should further explain our diabolical scheme, shouldn't we, Angelica?"

"I'm Colonel Angelica Richardson. My grandfather was the last true President of the United States of America. He was killed by muties like you, our forces scattered after the treachery of Poseidon and Navarro. We've hid underground for decades, consolidating our strength. We lost contact with some of our brethren, but we've recovered enough that we can stop hiding underground. The time is right for us to announce our presence, to reclaim the stars and stripes, and what better way than to destroy the mythical New Vegas, a new nation that was stillborn before it left the womb? You first came to our attention when you sent an old bomber to bomb the Sierra Madre. It's not far from here and we tracked the plane, using radar and one of our Vertibirds. We sent agents to your city, to learn it's weaknesses and strengths. We met your ghoul friend. Our psychological department felt he might be a handy operative for us, so we kept tabs on him. When we saw the assault you inflicted upon him in Vegas, I saw an opening. He was quite open to cooperating with us, so we arranged all this, the assassination attempt, the escape. Your would-be assassin was an Enclave agent with a... poor performance record. He will not be missed. We did not believe it would succeed. Whether you believed it to be NCR or not was secondary. We left a trail of breadcrumbs leading you to Dean."

"It was to lure you two here, leaving your city vulnerable, while the attack begins." Dean continued. "And it's worked oh so well." He looked at both of them. "What? Nothing to say?"

Angelica shrugged her shoulders. "I've got an assault to partake in. I don't think you need my help anymore. Have fun." She left the room, leaving them chained and alone with Domino.

"I hope there is a purgatory for you to burn in for the next thousand centuries." Christine shot.

Dean chuckled. "Very creative. How about you, delivery boy?"

"We're going to enjoy killing you, slowly, and then we're going to kill any Enclave cunt in our way and then blow this base right to Mars."

"Who's this 'we' I keep hearing about?" He asked. He pulled out a pistol and shot Christine in the throat once.

"Now you're mute again. I like you better this way."

Christine turned away from Dean and looked at the Courier. Blood flowing out of her mouth and the hole in her throat. She tried to talk, but all that came out was garbled gibberish. Tears flooded her eyes, seeing his pained expression. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, to give him strength when he needed it the most. Just three words we're all she wanted to say. But she couldn't manage that. Once again, she was unable to verbally express her gratitude to the man she loved, the man who'd saved her sanity and her life.

The Courier screamed a cry of anguished pain as his love slowly died in front of his eyes. He saw the fight in her fiery eyes slowly fade into shadow. He struggled in his restraints, howling like a lugubrious banshee. Before him, Dean was laughing like he hadn't laughed in years. "There's no dish as sweet as cold revenge."

The Courier saw Dean laughing. His emotions morphed from grief to rage. He looked straight ahead and summoned every ounce of strength, he called upon every single implant, every cybernetic modification and pushed against his restraints. Dean continued to laugh at his adversary's futile struggle, his agony. The leather restraints budged ever so slightly. The Courier knew it was time, he activated his GRX implant. It was surreal as the restraints snapped one after the other in rapid succession. It was in slow motion as he rushed Dean, his free hand just beginning to reach for his pistol.

The Courier tackled Dean on the floor. He grabbed his pistol and threw it away. With his fists he pounded away at Dean, his fists landed blow after blow upon Dean's face, the cheekbones caved in one after another. Dean grasped for air, his free arm waving in a futile gesture to ward off his attacker. Dean's arm fell after several more blows landed. The Courier knelt up and broke his other arm. Dean squealed in agony. The Courier walked over to the desk and retrieved the chair. He brought the chair down on Dean's head. Again. And again. And again. And again. Filled with bestial rage, he crushed Dean's head until it was unrecognizable, but a pool of putrefied goo that oozed onto the floor. Dean Domino was dead, two hundred years too late. Once again, Dean had been undone by underestimating his partner.

Chapter 3

He rushed to Christine's body and undid her restrains. Her lifeless body fell into his arms. He wept freely, wailing her name aloud. He cradled her limp body, stroking the soft hair he'd grown to love so much. He didn't know how long he wept, cradling her body in her arms. Gradually, he composed himself, remembering there was still much to do, remembering her final words to him.

"I'll be back for you." He said to her body. He retrieved Dean's pistol and left the lab.

Right before his eyes was a map, detailing where he was. He studied it for several moments before plotting his course. The hallways were largely deserted. There was the odd Enclave personnel he was able to seek by. Everyone he saw was wearing grey uniforms and unarmed except for the odd officer with a sidearm. The base must've scrambled all its front line personnel to take part in the assault.

He cautiously wound his way around a few more corridors, down a narrow stairwell when he encountered an Enclave Officer.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Private Benny." He spat out instantly, without thinking it over.

"What the hell are you doing dressed up in those rags? Where's your uniform, soldier?"

"I eh... lost it, sir."

"Sir! Sir! Do I look like a sir to you? Look at me, you radioactive iguana! Do I look like a member of the male genus to you? You see these boobs? They're bigger than your damn balls, especially when I'm done crushing them! Secondly, I'm not an officer numbnuts! I work for a living you moronic slab of mutated maggot meat! Don't three chevrons mean anything to you, you RadScorpion breeding, radioactive parasite! I am Sergeant Hartmam! The Angel of Death herself!"

"I lost my uniform, sergeant."

"You did more than lose a uniform! You lost an expensive piece of government property! Why you little maggoty moron you make me want to vomit! You are going to personally spend the next thousand and one years working in this man's army until you pay off the cost of that uniform and after that you're gonna spend the next five hundred years with my boot lodged up your ass because you're such a goddamn moron! Christ! You look you just paid some ghoul whore to bleed from her cunt onto your shirt. Get to the Quartermaster now before you turn into a fucking mutie!"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Actually, before you go to the Quartermaster, get yourself to the head and take a fucking shower! You smell worse than a herd of Brahmin with diarrhea! When was the last time you showered, private? When dinosaurs roamed the earth! Goddamnit! Everyone else is fighting mutant morons and I'm stuck back here with the maggot meat! Do you know why I'm stuck back here?"

"No Sergeant."

"Because of professional misconduct, I'm on administrative leave. They say I yell too much! They say I'm meaner than a Deathclaw and that I hurt people's precious feelings! Do you believe that?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Wrong answer moron! I've had enough of you! After you get showered, get yourself a uniform, meet me on the parade square in 30 mikes. I'm going to take a personal interest in seeing you suffer. Understand?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

The Sergeant stormed past him, fuming audibly, not bothering to check upon the Courier any further. The Courier breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never had an encounter quite like that before.

He was nearing the reactor room, just around the corner. He saw the words "Ice cream" written on the wall. If only there were barracks on the way, he could've stolen a uniform or even a passkey. He opened the door to the reactor room and cautiously looked inside. It was a typical reactor room full of centrifuges and computer terminals.

He spotted the mainframe, directly ahead of him. He silently crept in. He didn't see anyone. That made him nervous. Surely they would've used security measures. A Mister Gutsy floated from above in front of him. "Unidentified personnel. Please submit password or security measures will be activated." The robot was too far away for him to attempt to deactivate it. His pistol would do little good against its armour. He only had one try.

"Ice Cream." He was desperate and remembered the graffiti outside.

"Thank you, you may proceed soldier."

He couldn't believe that had worked. He hurriedly walked over to the mainframe and activated the interface. It was a standard RobCo model. After several attempts he deducted the correct password.

He looked at the options, disbelieving his luck.

_Reactor Status-Nominal _

_Reactor Safety Protocols-Active _

_Adjust Reactor Settings_

He disengaged the Reactor safety protocols; this would hopefully prevent any alarm from sounding. Then he went into the Reactor Settings Submenu. He increased the output of every reactor to maximum levels within the base, and initiated the drainage of all the tanks.

_Warning! Current settings could result in critical overload of all systems within 15.5313432 minutes. Are you sure you wish to proceed? Y/N_

He checked the time, clicked yes, smashed the interface and ran out the reactor room. He ran towards the lab, not caring if anyone saw him. He bumped into a couple of people. They both called him an _asshole_ but otherwise ignored him.

He found Christine as he'd left her. He gathered her and slung her body over his shoulder. Attempting to retrace their steps would take too long. His best bet was to head towards the hanger. Maybe he could hijack a Vertibird. It was difficult to move hauling her body like this, with his free hand he gripped the pistol. The Hangar was just a few turns away.

He opened the doors leading to the hangar and shielded himself from the blinding light. The skies above him were wide open. He looked around and realized the hangar, the base, was built into the crater. The strange blackened ground was actually the doors that hid this base from view.

The Hangar was largely deserted. To his right were dozens of supply crates and barrels. Small sheds built into the steel floor, electrical generators perforated the walls of the hangar, dozens of thick cables coiled around them. He saw no one walking around, no sentries, no flight crews, and no soldiers. To his left he saw a handful of Vertibirds resting on the ground. Their cargo holds were empty though he could see movement in some of their cockpits. He made his way for the nearest one, moving as fast as he could.

"Stop right there!" A voice behind him shouted.

Slowly he turned around; two sentries were pointing their plasma rifles at him. They weren't wearing Power Armour, only the standard grey uniforms. He knelt down and gently lowered Christine's body onto the ground.

"Drop your weapon." He did as asked.

He looked at a digital clock behind them. The reactor would go in about 8 minutes.

"Who are you?" One of them asked.

"I'm the Courier."

They looked at another.

"What, you deliver pizza or something?"

"Not pizza." He answered.

"What then?"

"Death."

The two sentries looked at another and were about to share a laugh. The Courier never gave them that opportunity; he activated his GRX Implant and rushed them. He ran behind them and snapped both of their necks. Their bodies fell loudly to the ground. He looked around. No one else was around. He grabbed one of the fallen sentry's plasma rifles and rushed over to Christine, hoisting her body over his shoulder.

He quickly trotted over to the nearest Vertibird without further incident.

He gently dropped Christine's body into one of the seats.

"Well, what's the word? Oh shit!"

The Courier pointed his plasma rifle at the pilot.

"Take off. Now. Don't use your radio."

The pilot nodded, her eyes full of fear. She was a fresh young girl, not even 20 years old.

The Courier strapped Christine's body in as the doors closed. The engines began loudly whirring to life. The Courier joined the pilot in the cockpit, sitting in the co pilot's seat.

"We're heading to New Vegas. We need to get there ASAP." The pilot nodded, her eyes fearful as ever as the Vertibird lifted off into the Mojave sun. He looked out the window towards the abandoned house. He saw his Securitrons and ED-E sprawled on the ground, surrounded by the debris of their robotic entrails. A few lifeless suites of Power Armour surrounded them. They hadn't gone quietly but it was small comfort as he had another companion to mourn.

Chapter 4

The concussion of the explosion rocked the Vertibird, but the pilot held it steady. He felt a small sense of satisfaction, but there was still much to do. He heard the pilot sob quietly, she was trying to hide it. There was a part of him that wanted to console her, but he remembered what had happened the last time he'd tried that.

The Courier was unable to hide his own anxiety as the Vertibird flew towards his city. Blooms of smoke filled the sky, nearer and nearer. "From what I can hear on the radio, battle sounds pretty brutal." The pilot told him.

"Battles are always brutal. They just get fiercer."

"All sorts of weird shit going on."

"Like what?"

The pilot hesitated. "Like some shit about an old Pre-War bomber bombing troops on the ground. Some teams getting hit bad by artillery fire... Those robots are pretty fucking tough... Just heard something about Super Mutants...Sniper Fire around a camp in the West side's a real pain in the ass...Something about a ghoul in a sombrero...It's fucked up."

New Vegas was in sight. The Towers of the Strip stood proudly as ever, though surrounded by uncountable plumes of smoking billowing in the sky. He saw dozens of destroyed Vertibirds. He saw flashes of fighting in the North and Northwestern outskirts of the city. They were passing near Raul's shack.

"Land here." The Courier said. Any closer they risked being shot down.

The pilot gently set the Vertibird down. The Courier thanked her as he left the cockpit; he untied Christine's body and hauled her over his shoulder.

"What about me?" The pilot plaintively whined, lowering the cargo doors.

He turned to face her.

"You have to let go of the past. Find new reasons to live, new ways to do things. That's what I'm fighting for. You're fighting the wars of the past. You throw around the name United Sates of America like it means something. It doesn't. That world died in nuclear fire two hundred years ago. It's time for a New World. The Old World has to die. Do you want to be part of the New World, or the Old?"

She thought it over before unstrapping herself and together they left the Vertibird.

The fighting in their sector had died down. Scores of dead Enclave soldiers littered their path. It was rare to find a dead Securitron. He guessed there was maybe one Dead Securitron for every 20 Enclave soldiers. They heard the sounds of battle, towards Westside and Camp McCarran, explosions, plasma fire, laser fire, rifle fire, vague screams.

The New Vegas Medical Clinic was damaged, but still standing. He asked the pilot to open the door for him.

A couple of Follower Guards pointed their rifles at him but quickly lowered them when they saw who he was. They stared in open bewilderment, not believing who they saw. The Clinic was overflowing with the wounded, the dead and those in between. The floors soaked in blood. Screams of agony echoed throughout the small edifice. Outside these men and women were partisans on opposite sides, here they were equals.

"How's everyone?" He asked a guard.

"Could be better. We took a couple of hits but nothing too serious. We could use more help. It's tough to operate on someone wearing Power Armour, removing it is a real pain in the ass. Dr. Usanagi's outside somewhere, treating more wounded out there."

He'd wanted to drop off her body here, but that wasn't going to work. He left the clinic.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Flight Lieutenant Gabrielle Dornan."

"You should choose your own name from now on."

"Okay." She said unsurely, following him as they made their way westward. She clutched her sidearm as they moved from building to building.

At the H&H Tools building he finally saw a Securitron mopping up a couple of Enclave troops. He waved it down and it quickly sped towards him.

Yes Man's cheerful mug appeared on the screen.

"Hi Boss. I'm glad you could make it. Say, what..."

"Never mind. What's going on?"

"The Enclave began attacking us 3 hours ago. A group of Six Vertibirds landed north east of here, another six landed north of here, another six landed just outside of Westide and four more landed outside Camp McCarran. We detected their arrival so we were able to position Securitrons to appropriate locations. The Boomers used their artillery to lay down suppressing fire on those who got too close to their base, then mopped them up the old fashioned way! They also used their B-29 to carpet bomb a whole bunch of them. That was too much fun to see those Power Armoured mooks blown up! You should've seen it, boss! 30 Minutes after the first landing the Nightkin and Super Mutants from Jacobstown arrived on the scene to help out. Camp McCarran withstood a heavy assault, thanks to an old sniper friend of ours and our new recruits. A couple of Vertibirds tried to land at Hoover Dam, but they were shot down. A further six tried to land on the Strip and Freeside, but the 38's laser batteries dealt with them. Currently, enemy forces are 90% eliminated, all Vertibirds destroyed. We should finish them off in the next 20 minutes or so. I think we have this under control. I can't calculate casualties at the moment, a lot of outlying buildings have been severely damaged but the walls and gates still stand. Get yourself back to the 38."

"Listen, if any of them surrender, don't kill them."

"Understood, boss."

Dornan looked at him. "What now?"

"We move on."

**Epilogue**

"These brave men and women who fought and died a few days ago defending this new nation did not die fighting the past. Though they were killed by the ghosts of the Old World, they fought defending the future; they fought defending the New World. We shall honour and remember their sacrifice. Not as martyrs, not as icons we pay lip service to on certain days of the year, but as reminders that war never changes, and so it is people who must change. We must let go of the past and look to the future. While there is some value in the past, the greatest harm has been caused by those who refuse to let go of the past, those who are afraid to begin again, those who learn the wrong lessons of history. The future of New Vegas lies in your hands as much as it does mine. We will soon have AutoDocs that can cure any aliment, any injury, Matter Replicators which can create any item such as food or medical aid with the insertion of a simple chip; soon we'll be able to feed everyone thanks to Salient Green. With the help of these technologies, and more, we will be able to forever banish the nightmare of history from these lands and begin anew."

The crowd erupted in applause. They'd all gathered in Camp McCarran, too many coffins behind him, emblazoned with the flag of the Ace of Spades, the flag of New Vegas. To his left in impeccable formation was the First New Vegas Regiment, standing proudly at attention, with their new uniforms and new rifles that had served so well. Not a single casualty during the entire battle, yet they demolished every Enclave force they encountered.

He saw a few familiar faces in the crowd. Raul Tejada. One minute, he'd been working in his shack. The next, with Power Armoured troops roaming by, he donned his old Vaquero outfit and got to work, defending the city he'd come to believe in. Marcus and a few Super Mutants were towards the back of the crowd, he thought he saw Dog/God, but wasn't sure. They'd played a huge role in the defence of the city and he'd make sure it would not go unremarked or unrewarded.

He saw a few Boomers, looking uncomfortable, surrounded by the "savages" they were slowly beginning to realize they had much in common. The families of the Strip were there, they'd sent their own muscle to help bolster the city's defences. He saw familiar faces from the Thorn. When news of the attack hit, The Thorn sent all their hunters to the surface to fight the invaders. There were rumours some Enclave soldiers had been taken alive, and were now the newest attraction in the Thorn arena. Away from the crowd, standing atop the El Ray motel was a lone figure. He wore a duster with an old world flag and dreadlocked hair. He could not see it, but the man wore a content, if cautious, smile.

He wept as he backed away from the podium, he couldn't hold back the tears anymore. Despite the positive words and emotions, it was hard to feel happy. It was impossible not to think of Christine Royce. Her body in a wooden casket, just a few feet away, forever away him.

He sat in the Lucky 38 Cocktail Lounge, sipping a Scotch straight from the bottle as the evening sun drifted gently below the horizon. His eyes red and moist, thinking of the love he'd lost. The wounds as fresh and searing as it had been a week ago.

"Boss, I took the liberty of finding a visitor for you." Yes Man announced over the intercom, shattering the suffocating silence.

"What? I told you, no visitors!" There was no answer. He stood and walked towards the elevator. The doors opened and there stood Rose of Sharon Cassidy. His apprehension vanished and he dropped the bottle. They rushed towards another and feverishly embraced.

"I need you." He whispered into her ear, holding her tightly.

"I need you, too." She whispered back, holding onto him desperately.

"I'm here for you." He said to her.

"I'm here for you too." She answered back, knowing they would be there for another until the end of their days.

THE END


End file.
